


what princess wants

by aerospaces



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies) RPF
Genre: Crossdressing Kink, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Feminization, Lingerie, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 06:17:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11178816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerospaces/pseuds/aerospaces
Summary: The whole thing is still a novelty.Ezra wakes up, and he spends an hour just lying in bed, feeling the cotton pull against the newly shaven skin of his legs.





	what princess wants

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This is unabashed unadulterated filth. I wish I had a good excuse, but I really don't. Join me in hell @[rtenenbaums](https://twitter.com/rtenenbaums). I promise to write Gradence fic very soon, like any sane person would, but first let me get a couple of these Colezra fic ideas out of my system. Also references (in jest) the uh infamous sex tape, the transcript of which I happened to stumble across on LJ. Not classy, but uh, I didn't realise I was doing it until it just...happened!

* * *

 

 

The whole thing is still a novelty. 

Ezra wakes up, and he spends an hour just lying in bed, feeling the cotton pull against the newly shaven skin of his legs. He wakes up, and sometimes Colin is still there, next to him, snoring on his back, or facing the wall, the slope of his shoulders moving under the bedsheets as he breathes. Sometimes, Ezra will walk around the whole of the apartment, picking up things from the boxes heaped in the living room. It’s been three months since they’d moved from LA, but Ezra has yet to unpack any of his clothing. The bedroom is kept sparse: a bed they’d ordered from IKEA that arrived with a matching nightstand, a built-in closet bursting with clothes Ezra doesn’t even wear anymore, a lamp and potted cactus in a corner of the room. 

These days Ezra walks around the apartment in Colin’s old clothes, football jerseys from twenty years ago, fraying at the hem, studded leather jeans and Levis with rips in the knees, an old silk dressing gown that billowed and brushed the floor. He has band shirts from when he’d had his Phase, and one afternoon when Ezra had been feeling a little creative, a little crazy, he’d fashioned these into tank tops, squatting on the living room floor and sawing the sleeves and bottom half off with a box cutter. 

When Colin got back from his run, Ezra was already in one of his shirts, fingering the hem that ended far above where he’d intended: three inches above the navel. He’d seen himself in the mirror that morning, barefoot and in denim shorts repurposed for the summer, riding up his thighs. The shorts were tight as much as the shirt was loose, the arm holes nearly as long as his forearms, the material thin enough to seem almost translucent. He looked ridiculous. Like a complete idiot. But Colin didn’t seem to think so, crossing the hall in three long strides and tugging him forward by the hips. “Hello, beautiful,” he’d whispered, making Ezra shiver to his toes. He’d smelled like clean sweat, tasted like the tangy healthy drink he sometimes bought on the way back from his runs, and he kissed Ezra with an urgency that made Ezra feel like his bones were going to be sucked clean to the marrow. 

Ezra liked that he was two inches taller than Colin, often joked that Colin seemed like his old man, his dad, when they went on lunch dates — no one the wiser when Colin bought him expensive things from high end shops or curled an arm around his shoulder. But there was something about the way Colin held him that often made Ezra feel small and protected, that filled him up with delirious affection, like air filling up a balloon. Colin looked at him at times with unabashed fondness. He looked at Ezra in a way that made Ezra feel… wholly special and desired. Pretty. Like a small thing needing attention, something soft, fragile. 

Colin fucked him that morning on the unmade bed. Peeled off his shorts first, chuckling at the lack of underwear, smiling a crooked smile, before turning Ezra onto his front and spreading his knees out on the bed. Ate him out with a contented hum that made Ezra’s spine tremble with pleasure, and then fingered him viciously, two fingers slick with spit and lube, and then three, in and out and in, until Ezra’s cock spat three stripes of come on the sheets, ruining them interminably. 

Loose and malleable and nearly unconscious from his orgasm, Colin entered him in one long thrust. Inch by slow inch until Ezra’s thighs spread apart, shaking, and he clung desperately onto Colin’s shoulders each time he was breached, the bed swaying underneath him like an earthquake. Ezra kept his eyes fixed to a spot on the ceiling, but soon his vision whitened out, and he was coming, coming so hard he could feel his insides tremble, the whole of his body going slack with bliss.

When he came back to himself, Colin was cradling a mug of tea in his lap and checking his e-mail on his iPad, slumped in the red bean bag situated next to the floor to ceiling window. The shorts were on the floor, the front button missing. When Ezra rose from the bed to put some pants on, Colin complained about Ezra depriving him of the sight of his long legs and told him to leave it. 

“Why?” Ezra had asked. Colin had simply shrugged one shoulder and smiled in answer.

Later, after lunch, Colin fucked him again, bent over the sofa still covered in protective plastic, one hand pressed between his shoulder blades while the other gripped his hip. Ezra, who had kept the shirt on the whole time, came when his nipples rubbed the scratchy material hard enough to hurt, panting into the skin of his arm as Colin _thrust_ and _thrust_.

It was a week later when Colin caught him shaving his legs in the bathroom. Ezra didn’t even hear him coming in, his leg propped up on the toilet seat, his earbuds plugged in, blaring music from his iPhone docked on the sink. 

Colin had thrown the door open, and then stopped, staring at the pink, plastic razor clutched in Ezra’s hand. 

Ezra had nicked himself in surprise, and blood ran down his legs in tiny red rivers. Colin grabbed a handful of toilet paper to stopper the flow, and as he knelt on tile, getting his fancy trousers wet, he squeezed Ezra’s knee and asked him what the hell he thought he was doing.

“Shaving my legs,” Ezra said, shrugging. “I want them to be smooth.” _For you_ , Ezra didn’t say, feeling as though it might further implicate him. There was that look again, in Colin’s eyes, dark and unreadable, and then he was taking the razor from Ezra’s grip and motioning for him to sit on the edge of the tub. He washed the blood and hair off with a shower spray, then frowned at the cuts Ezra made shaving, tracing the edges with his thumb. A few days later, he made an appointment, and they walked hand in hand to a waxing studio on 10th street where Ezra lay down on a comfortable white bed, as narrow as a gurney, and let women in surgical masks drizzle warm honey on his bare legs and thighs. 

They were thorough — but Colin didn’t know the extent in which they were. He drove Ezra home and they ate Chinese takeout on the kitchen counter, and didn’t talk about what the experience was like for Ezra at all. All night, Ezra waited for Colin to touch him, for Colin to undress him to be fucked, but Colin remained seated on his end of the bed, one hand resting quietly on Ezra’s knee as he read through a dog-eared copy of a script he received in the mail. 

While Colin slept, Ezra locked himself in the bathroom and admired his hairless legs in the full length mirror. He squatted on the floor of the tub and pressed his thumb below the hang of his balls where the skin was taut and newly smooth, still raw from waxing. He slid his finger all the way up the knuckle, shuddering as he drew it out and then pumped it back in. 

Ezra wore the shorts again the next day, sewing up the button in front, though this time, while Colin was at a meeting, he stopped by Macy’s to buy himself some lingerie. A joke, he told himself, something to surprise Colin with and nothing more, but he lingered in the cosmetics section where small pots of creams and gel stood on display behind gleaming glass counters, frosted bottles arranged on an oval tray like a family posing for a photograph. 

He bought a tube of lipstick for himself, embarrassed when a saleswoman approached him to ask whether he needed assistance. He spun the lipstick carousel, looking for that perfect shade of pink, daubed women’s perfume behind his ears like he’d seen his mother do, and took samples of every product at the counter, stuffing his bag with thimble-sized eye gels and moisturizers. 

When he caught his own reflection in one of the angled mirrors lining the counter, Ezra noticed his 5 o’clock shadow, the wiry hair he’d been too lazy to wash this morning, dull and lank as it curled behind his ears. He frowned and touched his jaw self-consciously, tilting his face this way and that.

Often times, people praised him for his looks, told him he was androgynous. And while Ezra liked his mouth enough, and his cheekbones, he hated how masculine the rest of him looked, his jaw too angular, his hands too veiny, his feet too big.

On his way out of the department store, he bought himself a new razor that promised a smooth, non-irritating glide. He didn’t feel safe taking the train back to the apartment, with bags full of delicate underthings, so he called a cab instead.

* * *

 

 

Colin wouldn’t be home until later that evening and called to inform Ezra not to wait up. 

Ezra didn’t have a problem with this, because it meant more time to himself, time he could spend alone, feeling himself out. He shaved himself everywhere, washed his hair with conditioner, and rubbed coconut-scented lotion on his arms and legs.

He tried the panties on first, strutting around the apartment with a sway on his hips, laughing at himself and feeling utterly silly with his shirt hiked up to his ribs and his cock already half-hard in the soft material. But he looked good, both in satin and in lace, and in cotton panties with mint green scalloping on edges, and even in the pair he’d bought purely on impulse: cherry-printed panties with a huge red bow at the centre, like something a pornographic schoolgirl might wear in the 60’s. He liked the satin one best, its delicate crepe ruffling and the thin pink ribbon tying everything together at the hips. 

He kept them on throughout the day, under his shorts, which he was surprised did not ruin them on account of how tight the denim was. And when Colin came home, doffing his jacket at the door, Ezra stood at the very end of the hall, one hip cocked to the side, the picture of perfect innocence with his feet completely bare and his face perfectly shaven, and his hair, just how Colin liked it, loose like a dark curtain. His lips were shiny with a sheen of gloss — just the barest hint of colour at the center, like he’d sucked on a cherry popsicle that left the rest of his mouth red and wet.

And Ezra loved how Colin’s eyes darkened, how he’d stopped mid-sentence to gape at Ezra and swipe his tongue over his bottom lip before swallowing. “What are you —” He never got to finish, not after Ezra smiled at him and lifted his cropped shirt to give him a better view of his stomach, the near-obvious outline of his ribs. 

“You like it?” he teased, and turned to show him the rest: where the denim hiked up the back of his thighs and where the pink ribbons peeked shyly above the loose waist of his shorts.

Colin groaned, a catch in his throat. “Come here, gorgeous,” he said, but Ezra remained rooted to the spot, nipples hard under his cut-off shirt, cock thickening in his tiny denim shorts. 

Colin grabbed him as soon as he was within reach, pinning him to the wall where he began grinding his dick into Ezra’s soft thigh, kissing him until he couldn’t breathe anymore or see straight or make a noise without swallowing Colin’s air.

“Come to bed with me,” Colin grunted in between panting kisses. “Shit, baby, I’m gonna come from just looking at you. _Christ_. I mean — _look at yo_ u. In those fucking shorts.”

Ezra laughed and let Colin follow him to the bedroom where he propped himself on his elbows and let Colin kiss him on each ankle. He shivered when Colin began to press his unshaven face along his legs, working his way up Ezra’s thighs, and running the bristly hairs of his stubble against the smoothness of Ezra’s skin.

“Pretty,” Colin whispered as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of Ezra’s knee, then the other. “Pretty, pretty, pretty.”

Ezra bit his tongue to stop himself from coming when Colin started unbuttoning his shorts. Colin slid them off Ezra’s legs one-handed, and breathed audibly when he saw what Ezra had been wearing all along — they looked pitiful now, however, the fine lace front soaked with pre-come, the ruffles flattened, a ribbon undone.

Ezra blushed and stammered out an excuse. About how he thought Colin would like them, so he bought them, and how it had been nothing more than a whim, a joke. He was never usually embarrassed when it came to sex, but he felt strangely vulnerable as he waited for Colin to say something.

Colin glanced up, and Ezra shivered at the inscrutable look in his eyes. His cock spat a bead of pre-come that left a visible wet spot in the lace and he blushed even harder. 

How he loved it when Colin looked at him like this; it made him feel adored though at the same time it frightened Ezra to wonder what else Colin thought about doing to him. He’d never hurt Ezra, would never put his health or safety at risk — but sometimes, sometimes Ezra wanted the roughness, the violence. Wanted Colin to tie him up in handcuffs and leave him completely at his mercy, to ruin and make utterly his.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Colin swore, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck._ You did this? All this? Shit, baby, you’re so beautiful.” He ran his hands up the length of Ezra’s legs, squeezing his calves, letting Ezra’s spread legs bracket his sides. 

“I need to see all of you — you gonna show me what else you’re hiding or do I have to rip these panties off before you let me see your pink little cunt?”

_Fuck._ Ezra shivered and bucked, whining when his hips met nothing but air. Colin tended to get a little filthy when he was dying to fuck him. And there was a word Ezra tended to call him too, when they got like this, when they forgot all propriety, and it was just the two of them, playing their little game, caught up in the eddies of a shared fantasy. 

“ _Daddy_ ,” Ezra gasped, as Colin nudged Ezra’s legs apart and told him to keep his hands under his knees to hold himself open. Colin’s hand was a hot brand on the skin of Ezra’s thigh, and Ezra whimpered when Colin began peeling his panties off, one ribbon at a time. His precome had made the material near translucent, the pink scalloping completely soaked through. Ezra would be embarrassed if it didn’t feel so good to have Colin unwrap him like a present, if Colin didn’t praise him for looking so delightful and perfect in his crop top and pink panties. 

And then Colin groaned, his eyes fixed to where Ezra was now newly bare and hairless, his hole dilating under Colin’s questing thumb. “Jesus,” Colin muttered. “Look at you.”Colin stroked Ezra’s hole, the pads of his fingers barely pushing inside before they were replaced with a deft tongue that made Ezra leak harder against his belly.

“You taste so good,” Colin breathed, spreading Ezra open with his thumbs and licking a hot wet stripe along his rim. “You gonna let Daddy fuck you, mm, _princess_? Open you up with his big cock?”

Ezra whimpered, nodding, electricity singing up his spine at the nickname. It made him feel pretty, being called that. _Princess_. Like he was Colin’s to cherish and protect. 

“You like that?” Colin chuckled. “You like it when Daddy calls you that? Princess?”

“Y-yes, Daddy,” Ezra panted. The word made him feel delicate, and conjured up images that made his body fill up with want: soft, beautiful things like stockings and frilly ribbons, pink fur-lined handcuffs which he’d seen once, in porn. Daddy seating Ezra on his fat cock while Ezra wore his prettiest dress, riding him until he came and shot a big wet load inside his girl.

Colin huffed, shaking his head. “Jesus,” he said, kissing Ezra out of the blue. “You haven no idea how crazy you make me, do you?” Then that was the last Ezra got out of him because he shoved Ezra’s thighs apart, nuzzling his hole, and pressing kisses to his sac before licking him clean. Colin ate him out like a feast, groaning in his throat, letting his beard tickle the skin of Ezra’s thighs until Ezra was coming from the sensation alone, from watching Colin go to town on him like there wasn’t anything else he’d rather be doing. 

When he finished, Colin’s stubble shiny with spit, Ezra’s thighs were aching, but he let Colin haul him forward by the ankles until he felt the slippery head of Colin’s cock nudge his hole. Colin prepped him with only two fingers coated in lube, before he thrust in without any warning, fucking Ezra until he was hard again and almost in tears from how good it felt taking Colin’s cock.

“ _Daddy_ ,” Ezra groaned, flinging an arm over his face. He kept whimpering it over and over, not sure what he was asking for, his breath getting choppier and choppier each time Colin slammed home and buried himself to the hilt.

“Daddy’s gonna get you a big fucking dildo that you can sit on for hours,” Colin promised into his ear, “And you’re gonna love it, princess, and you’re gonna come from daddy just fucking your cunt like this, because daddy’s gonna fill you up with so much come. You want that, princess? I can feel your cunt tightening up for me, trembling. You feel so good, baby girl.”

“ _Daddy_ ,” Ezra whimpered again. There were tears in his eyes — he wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed at how hard Colin’s promises were making him, or if he was delirious over how good it felt, getting pounded within an inch of his life. He was going to be so sore tomorrow, unable to stand without wincing or dripping Colin’s come down his thighs. He was already making a mess of himself, leaking over his own belly in thick fat drops. 

Colin’s never fucked him like this before, and Ezra felt like he was going to break any second, and it scared and thrilled Ezra both at the same time. He wanted to come, and moved his hand to grab at his cock but Colin pinned his wrists above his head, squeezing them hard enough to serve as a warning. 

Colin rolled his hips once, twice, making Ezra whine like a puppy in pain, his entire body shuddering with the need to come, his cock painfully full.

“We’re going to have to get you used to getting coming from just getting fucked, princess,” Colin said, running a finger down the side of Ezra’s face, one broad hand gripping both of Ezra’s wrists. “And that means no touching your pretty little cock.”

“Shit, _Colin_ , _Daddy_ —”

“Tell daddy what you want or he won’t give it to you,” Colin said, slowing down his thrusts, driving Ezra crazy.

Ezra wanted to cry even harder for a number of reasons. He was red in the face, and sniveling, and his thighs hurt and his ass was so sore. And his cock was so painful, his balls so full, and there was nothing more he wanted than for Colin to keep fucking him until he orgasmed. 

“Daddy!” he cried out during a particularly deep thrust that made his eyes roll back in their sockets and his toes curl pleasantly.

“What was that?”

“I want you to fuck me,” Ezra whined.

“I can’t hear you, baby girl, speak a little louder.”

“I— I want d-daddy to fuck me,” he moaned, in a voice that he knew Colin liked best, soft and sweet. He shut his eyes, ashamed of himself, his ears suddenly hot. “Make me feel good, daddy. Cunt’salready so wet for you — wanna ride your big fucking dick until you knock me up.”

“Jesus, Ezra,” Colin groaned, almost breaking character. “ _Fuck_. Don’t say shit like — _get up here._ ” 

Colin pulled out, one agonizing movement that almost had Ezra scrabbling to drag him back by the back of his legs, before rolling Ezra gently on top of him, in his lap. 

“Sit on my cock, _come on_ , I want to watch you come,” said Colin, his voice warmer now as he squeezed Ezra’s hips. 

Ezra nodded, doing as he was told, and was about to shuck off his shirt when Colin insisted he keep it. 

“Grip it with your teeth. I wanna see you playing with those tits.”

Ezra stared at him, and nodded again, though not until a beat later, lifting the hem of his cropped shirt and holding it between gritted teeth. He groaned when Colin pushed his cock back inside him, and began squeezing his nipples in time with Colin’s thrusts, rotating his hips, slow and hypnotic just so he could feel the hot drag of Colin’s cock spreading him open.

“God, baby girl,” Colin hissed, head thumping the pillows, gripping his hips harder. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re riding daddy’s cock. You like riding that cock?”

Ezra couldn’t reply with his shirt in his mouth, so he nodded several times and started increasing his pace, fucking himself on Colin’s cock hard enough to rock the bed. 

Ezra watched his cock leak lazily onto Colin’s stomach as he rose in Colin’s lap and met him halfway thrust for thrust, hiccuping through a throaty whine whenever Colin nudged his prostate, whimpering at every downward cant of his hips. He kept Colin buried fully inside him before rising up to his knees and bucking downward, and it didn’t take long before he was coming with a shout, crumpling forward into Colin’s arms as Colin caught him and buried his face into the side of Ezra’s neck. 

Colin continued fucking him, steady and deep until he came too, filling Ezra as he promised with the hot silky rush of his come. There seemed to be so much of it that Ezra whimpered again, shuddering through the aftershocks as he gripped Colin’s forearms. Afterwards, he felt strangely bereft, greedy of Colin’s affection, cuddling up to him like a newborn kitten, peppering his face and chest with sloppy kisses.

Colin ran his fingers down the length of Ezra’s spine before graciously pulling out of him, lowering Ezra onto his back and kissing him long and slow.

When Colin sat up, he flung Ezra’s panties off the bed and stripped Ezra of his cropped shirt, before giving him a long pointed look, his eyebrows raised. 

“You’re filthy,” was all he said.

Ezra felt almost offended, and then felt ashamed of himself, until Colin laughed and swooped down to kiss him again, burying his hands in Ezra’s hair and pulling him flush against his body, draped across his chest, all loose-limbed and giddy from his orgasm. 

Ezra shivered in delight, moaning as Colin deepened the kiss until Ezra could taste himself in his mouth.

“Seriously though, you’re beautiful,” Colin murmured, letting Ezra scratch his beard with his fingernails. “And if you want to keep on wearing lingerie, if you must insist on driving me insane walking around in tank tops and denim shorts, _Jesus_ , babe. I’m all for it.”

Ezra tried hard not to let his smile grow too big, though his heart had already swelled several sizes too big for his chest. He could feel the back of his neck prickling with warmth. “Promise, daddy?” he asked in a small, hopeful voice, scrunching his nose when Colin chuckled and tugged at it fondly. “You’ll let me walk around in panties and lipstick and buy toys for my _cunt?_ ”

Colin’s eyes glittered darkly and he squeezed Ezra’s waist. “Is that what you want? Toys? Like butt plugs?”

“And dildos,” Ezra added. “ _Vibrators_.” He bit Colin gently on the ear, feeling Colin shiver against him.

“You’ll have those,” Colin said, with a rueful little laugh as he smacked Ezra on the ass, a reprimand for being naughty. “Anything you want, anything at all. Because what daddy’s princess wants, his princess fucking gets.”


End file.
